Bruno and I had loads of tourism plans to break up the monotony and work of our three months in France. We didn’t do a single one of them. Instead, we did something entirely un-nomadic: we fostered a community.
I am soooooooo ready to leave France now. I know I don’t have a right to complain, since my regular life is luxuriously free of work and responsibility. Maybe that’s why I can no longer manage the life we’ve been leading these past 2.5 months. I’ve gone soft. I can’t handle it. I just want to jump in Totoyaya and take off toward the horizon!
After spending the past few months living in the south of France, I have acquired quite a repertoire of hilariously uncomfortable cultural moments. From linguistic misunderstandings to greeting insecurities, from culinary faux-pas to political foot-in-mouth statements, it’s safe to say that even in France a Canadian will experience culture shock!
“Just don’t make me get my truck driver’s license,” said Bruno every time we daydreamed about our future Totoyata-replacing overland vehicle. If I’d known exactly what the process of getting that infernal truck driver’s license actually involved in France, I’d have listened to him.
Since Bruno and I have been staying put for a while, it seems as good a time as any to introduce you all to our neighbourhood. In this photo-heavy post, I describe the features of our house, immediate neighborhood, and town. Welcome to the Mediterranean Coast of France!